The Divine Horcrux
by TheSpyro2One
Summary: "...It will be protected indefinitely." Set during DH, on the hunt for the Horcruxes. Harry, ron and Hermione learn that Voldemort has created a Horcrux with the aid of a ancient evil, so powerful that its destruction may never occur.  Rated M for death!
1. Prologue

~~PROLOGUE~~

The skies rumbled overhead as a hooded figure apparated onto the festering shoreline. The seas roared around him as he took tentative steps – unusual for such a mighty power, he thought to himself – deeper into the horrifying environment before him.

This was the lost city, the prison that held one of the greatest powers in – quite literally - the entire Universe. As he made his way through the remains of the city, he noted two things; firstly, the odd geometry of the area. It had been said that Muggles had been driven insane after accidentally stumbling across this evil place, simply trying to comprehend the non-Euclidean structures. Secondly; the stench. The figure was well familiar with such a smell – it was that of _death_. Ancient death; the smell of those who had been dead for a thousand years. On his path to power, he had witnessed a number of deaths, many of which he caused personally.

Despite being the mightiest Dark Lord the Wizarding world had seen, Lord Voldemort still shuddered at the prospect of death. It was an absolute sign of failure.

He stopped as he approached an enormous temple, half sunken into the terrifying surroundings. Through the lashing rain and crashing waves, he could make out a humming noise, growing ever louder. Someone, or some_thing_, had cast a ward over this area.

Summoning his wand, Voldemort began to recite the most important chant associated with this hellish city.

"_Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn."_

A jet of green light erupted from his wand, striking the ward. It shimmered for some time before the spell fizzled out; it was a spell that once cast had to 'run its course'. Sure enough, the ward slowly stopped glowing as a brisk wind tried to pull everything towards the temple. Standing strong, Voldemort watched as the ward was removed. It had worked. The ancient chant, coupled with his ever-growing enormous dark power, was enough to break the final magical seal before his goal.

He stepped forward , now standing mere metres from the temple itself. It was unlike any other temple the world had ever seen; it was half-set into the ground, odd pillars rising at inconsistent angles. There were two gargantuan doors covering what must have been a maze of underground catacombs. Depicted on the doors was a face of a creature beyond all might; a God of evil powers. Numerous beady eyes and tentacles were depicted, with an inscription beneath;

'_Cthulhu fhtagn'_

"He dreams," the Dark Lord uttered to himself, surveying the carving. He stood there for some time, preparing himself for the final part of the process beyond his control – communication from the Deep Ones. '_Shoggoth hafh'drn ilyaa lw'nafh' – '_The Summoner of the Realm of Darkness must await the dream', the Dark Lord had discovered after months of analysis and preparation. The conditions had been met; the Summoner of the Realm of Darkness now stood metres from the enormous temple, awaiting the dream.

And then, without warning, Voldemort blacked out.

For a short while, black was all there was, although slowly, a high-pitched noise grew and grew, until the Dark Lord recognised it as a scream – somehow, he recognised it as his own scream. It built in intensity until it was deafening. Following this, brutal images appeared; many depicting himself, dead and rotting, ruined, easily defeated by Potter and shown to be nothing more than a simple roadblock in the progression of the wizarding world. The images moved with such intensity; as soon as one had flashed up, another would take its place.

For the first time since his attempted murder of the Boy-Who-Lived, Voldemort began to feel genuinely terrified, the feeling riling inside of him. Never before had he felt it on this level. Scowling at himself, he regained his mental composure, unable to admit defeat to an…_emotion…_ He watched helplessly as the awful images and sounds assaulted his mind.

And as soon as they had arrived, they had gone. Nothing but blackness once more. Blackness, and one deep, droning voice.

"He who seeks the Guidance of the Star-God will speak now."

Unperturbed, Voldemort began to communicate.

"I wish to request the knowledge of the Star-God."

The enormous voice returned his query. "The Black Brotherhood must prove their loyalty."

Somewhat confused by the vague response, Voldemort pressured the voice. "I wish to request the Great Priest's knowledge. The Priest has knowledge unsurpassed by all – I wish to speak with it."

"The Black Brotherhood must prove their loyalty." The voice repeated the same vague statement.

As Voldemort went to reply once more, the screaming began to fade in once more. After some time of the terrifying sound, he awoke in his base of operations, not too far from Hogwarts itself, yet thousands of miles from R'lyeh and about as detached from his recent experience as one could get.

Standing upright, the Dark Lord could hear one thing echoing in his mind, and one thing only.

_The Black Brotherhood must prove their loyalty._


	2. Dream Evil

~~CHAPTER ONE~~

…

…

…

_Await the Dream_

…

…

…

_AWAIT THE DREAM_

…

…

_AWAIT THE DREAM_

…

_THE BLACK BROTHERHOOD_

…

_AWAIT THE DREAM_

_THE BLACK BROTHERHOOD_

_AWAIT THE DREAM_

_THE BLACK BROTHERHOOD_

_CTHULHU FHTAGN_

Harry awoke suddenly, his breathing heavy and his eyes drawn wide open. Finally gaining control of his breathing, he calmed, not faltering from his position.

"What…" he uttered, fumbling for his glasses. Donning them, he looked at his wristwatch through the black of night – it read 2:25. He sighed heavily as he pulled the bedsheets from him, quickly adding another layer to his clothing.

It was cold in the tent. The harsh winters of years gone by hadn't eased up this year as the chilled air dissolved into the tarpaulin home of Harry and Hermione. Harry sat upright, placing his head in his hands. He, Ron and Hermione had been on the hunt for the fragments of Voldemort's soul since September – it was now mid December, or so Harry thought, and progress was steady, but demoralising and slow. In addition, Ron had abandoned the pair not too long ago, flat-lining Harry's morale and crushing Hermione – Harry had worked out she rather liked him. On top of all that, this strange, new dream that Harry had just had added yet another layer of mystery to what it was that Voldemort was planning.

Cursing under his breath, he headed for the tent entrance, a small glow guiding his way. He could make out the silhouette of Hermione, slumped against the tent. She was still. He slowly left the tent so as not to startle her, uttering a hello as he did so.

"Did you have another nightmare?"

"Well…" Harry began, going on to explain the strange chanting he'd heard in his 'dream'. Hermione watched with intent, her eyes pulling sharply when he said 'Cthulhu fhtagn'.

"Did you say… _Cthulhu_?"

"Yeah….why?"

"I think I remember seeing the name spring up in a book somewhere," she thought aloud. "Oh, damn it, Harry, I can't remember! If we've any chance of finding out what on Earth this all means we'd need to look it up. Unless you…can…re-enter Voldemort's mind?"

"I've tried before, as you know… it's not like casting _Expelliarmus_. It's…hard."

"I know, but you have to try at some point. It could be the lead we need…it might lead us to a Horcrux."

"If it leads us to anything I'll be happy."

"You and me both…" Hermione trailed off, her voice tinged with despair.

"You're thinking about Ron aren't you?"

"I know you're here, but… sitting here for hours guarding gets so lonely sometimes. It's all that locket's fault!..."

"He'll come back. Trust me."

"I hope you're right Harry. I – I miss him. I even miss the petty arguments."

"I bet you thought you'd never be saying that," Harry said jokingly, eliciting a friendly shove.

"You're right. I never did think I'd say that…_ever_…"she giggled.

"Come on, let's go inside for a bit."

"What time is it, anyway?"

"Time for Harry and Hermione to have a warm drink o' clock," he replied, smiling as he guided his best friend indoors.


	3. The Father

A/N - Cheers to anyone who's reading this! It's an idea I've had for some time, no idea how it's gonna turn out but hey, writing this is pretty awesome.

Now that stuff is beginning to happen, reviews would be appreciated :3

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><p>~~CHAPTER TWO~~<p>

"You wished to see me, My Lord?"

"Lucius. May I first thank you for offering your home to me. The Manor will prove a most indispensable base of operations from now."

"Of…of course, My Lord." The words echoed in the hall, sounding hollow even to Lucius. The Dark Lord must have been aware of his discomfort of housing all of his Death Eaters. It put his own family at risk, something that he wished never to see.

Once again the eloquent, soft voice rang out in the hall, pulling Malfoy's train of thought back to the current situation.

"Now you may be wondering why I have asked to see you. There is an issue that I must… clear up… with you. Please, remind me how you came to be a Death Eater."

"Surely you are already aware? You must remember the day I approached you, offering my services." Lucius began to feel more and more uneasy. Whilst the Dark Lord appeared to ask straightforward questions, there was always another layer of meaning behind them.

"Ah, Lucius, ever the one to provide an answer, though never yet the _whole_ answer. I understand that you were part of multiple cults before joining me. I know you were involved in a particularly dark cult, one spread globally… would you care to enlighten me as to its name?"

Droplets of sweat began to form on Malfoy's brow. He knew exactly which sect the Dark Lord was referring to.

"The.. The Black Brotherhood, My Lord."

"Yes indeed. Bring me your son, if you will."

"But My Lord-"

"Do you question me, Lucius? Surely you wouldn't do such a thing – in the interests of your family and yourself, I recommend that you find your boy and bring him to me."

With a badly concealed sigh, Lucius turned and headed from the room, returning moments later with Draco. They both wore the same facial expression; a cold, seemingly empty glare that communicated a surprising level of unease and tension, though they were unaware of this themselves.

"Young Mr Malfoy. I shall not keep you long. Please, show me your right shoulder. There is something I believe you have that I must know about."

Draco looked over at his father, his brow bowing slightly. Remaining silent, Lucius nodded in response, mentally instructing his son to do so. Tentatively, Draco rolled back his sleeve, revealing a scarred mark in his flesh. It was quite clearly an offset five-pointed star with a crimson eye in the centre. To the Dark Lord, it was the unmistakable mark – the 'Elder Sign' – that he had needed to see.

"Indeed," Voldemort began as he peered carefully at the mark, his cold fingers tracing its shape. Malfoy winced as he felt the Dark Lord's touch. "Most…unusual." Pulling his head away from Draco's shoulder, he cocked his own. Suddenly, the Dark Lord pointed his wand at the Malfoy boy, wordlessly casting _Stupefy_. Draco flew across the room, landing awkwardly in the corner.

"My Lord? What are you doing? That's my son!"

"Silence! I know what I am doing, Lucius. That was merely a… precaution, you see." Voldemort lowered his wand. "Nobody else can hear what we are about to discuss." In one effortlessly swift movement, Lucius found himself pinned against the wall, the face of Voldemort inches from his own. "Why does the boy have the Elder Sign?"

"I wanted to protect him from the Brotherhood. They are insane beyond belief."

"You were in the Brotherhood for many years. Why the change of heart?"

"When the family came together, I… I couldn't risk them being targets, My Lord. The Brotherhood would ruin them."

"You're pathetic, Lucius, and you yourself know it. _Cruciatus!"_

Lucius fell to the floor, the most intense pain he had ever felt coursing through his veins. When he regained control, he found himself staring into the black eyes of the Dark Lord.

"You have tonight to round up the members of the Black Brotherhood that you know of and bring them to me. Then we shall travel, and I will show you all a power greater than all. Do _not_ fail me, Lucius; otherwise, well… I'll leave you to imagine what will happen." The Dark Lord smiled awfully at Malfoy, promptly picking him up with one arm and casting him across the room.

With that, Voldemort apparated away, leaving Lucius slumped in the corner, his heart and mind racing. He knew it would only be a matter of time until the Dark Lord would find this avenue of exploitation, and now that time was finally here. He had lived his entire life in the shadow of evil – truly, it was a place where he belonged, and Lucius would be the first to accept that. However, his family were _not_ to be used by anyone, not even Voldemort.

If Lucius was to die protecting his wife and only son, then so be it, regardless of what the Dark Lord had in store.

* * *

><p>The near-constant storm raged above the city of death as the now large group of hooded figures appeared on its hellish shore. Voldemort stepped away from his entourage, surveying the scene. <em>Wonderful.<em> The branch of the Black Brotherhood that Lucius had frequented had been completely rounded up. He watched as they took in their surroundings, each and every one of them knowing exactly where they were. He could make out some of their mutterings; many were simply repeating '_Cthulhu fhtagn'_ as if to protect themselves from destruction…at least that's what he had gleaned from his research. The Black Brotherhood was a most strange cult, Voldemort mused to himself.

Other members of the Brotherhood were staring at the Dark Lord, uttering something about him being a 'high priest' – evidently, most of the Brotherhood were Muggles. Voldemort smiled to himself; he would be able to have some fun with the forthcoming events.

"My Lord… is this…"

"Lucius." He raised a hand. "All will be revealed. Now, if you would, bring your cohort and follow me. We have a meeting to attend to, you see."

Hesitantly, Lucius rounded up the Brotherhood and led them between the horrifying structures.

_It had to be. This had to be R'lyeh._

"You would be right in your assumption, Mr Malfoy."

He remained silent, following the Dark Lord through the web of alleys until they reached a large clearing, an enormous temple at the other end. Halting behind the most evil wizard of the times, Lucius watched as he produced his wand, muttering that hauntingly familiar slogan.

"_Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn."_

Upon hearing the ancient chant, the Brotherhood fell to their knees, heads bowed, rhythmically continuing that chant. Once Voldemort had completed removing the ancient wards, he turned to the kneeling cult.

"Stand."

He watched as they obeyed his command. Ensuring everyone's eyes were on him, he pointed his hand to the sky, bringing its aim to the floor in one swift movement. Materialising before him was the body of Draco Malfoy. Lucius held back; attacking the Dark Lord was futile at this minute. He grabbed his wand, ready to strike if necessary.

"Draco!... My Lord, please bring him no harm."

Voldemort stood, a quizzical expression on his face. "Then… I shall grant your wish, Lucius. I will not hurt your son."

Wordlessly, Lucius felt his wand fly from his hand – the next thing he saw was Voldemort bearing it. Then he felt himself being levitated into the air, unable to move – magical ropes had bound him; he was suspended in mid-air, now nothing more than an onlooker. Watching with horror, Lucius saw Voldemort turn slowly to the Brotherhood, who were in awe of his magical ability. He deduced that the Brotherhood assumed this powerful magic to be the work of the Elder Gods as they were praising the Dark Lord as if he himself were a God. Lucius' eyes trailed him as he stepped quietly towards the masses of robed figures.

"Kill the boy."

The horde of hooded figures growled, charging at Draco's weakened figure. Bellowing, Lucius could do nothing but watch as they tore his own son to pieces before him, literally ripping him limb for limb. Disgusted and distraught though he was, he was unable to turn away. He had failed to protect his son – he met his end in the most brutal of methods.

"How could you My Lord! He had done nothing!"

A mighty roar echoed across the plateau, halting the frenzied Brotherhood in their bloodlust. They gazed at the temple as one, stepping back from Draco's dismembered corpse, dropping to their knees and chanting. It was as if the noise of the rampant storm had dissipated; the only thing anyone could hear was the rhythmic chanting from the Brotherhood.

Then; silence. A deep voice rang out in each individual's mind – it was the same voice that Voldemort had communicated with before.

"He who has requested guidance of the Star-God will speak now."

Speaking through the newly-established mental connection, the Dark lord spoke. "My soul requires protection. I have brought forth a sacrifice to you-"

"The boy is not enough. There must be more."

In the odd silence, Voldemort turned to the Brotherhood, who had remained on their knees. Shouting the curse, he remained silent as he mouthed _Avada Kedavra_, striking the group of worshippers down.

"May their deaths satisfy you."

There was a brief pause.

"Kill the remaining survivor. None must know of this ritual."

Slowly, Voldemort turned to Lucius, still suspended in mid-air, unable to move. Going to shout, he was mute; his mouth moved but no words escaped. He could do nothing but watch as Voldemort raised the Elder Wand, aiming squarely at his head.

"Farewell, Lucius."

A jet of green light hit him, causing him to fall gracelessly to the floor, a motionless sack of limbs.

"It is done. Now-"

Once again interrupted by a deafening roar, Voldemort remained still. The roar faded quickly, a low rumble replacing it. It grew in intensity until the seas exploded behind the temple, crashing into the plateau. With a great lack of speed, over the temple lumbered a horrifyingly large creature, the Dark Lord able to sense the evil in its presence. It was just as described in the various documents he had read – a fish-like beast with a multitude of eyes on its head, a bulky figure, sprouting long, thin arms, and fins and gills almost everywhere on its terrifying body – this was Father Dagon.

It moved awkwardly until stood between Voldemort and the temple, hunching in its back legs, maintaining eye contact with him. Unusually, he could _feel_ its eyes boring within him; nobody else had achieved such a feeling with him. He could sense the evil emanating from the great beast; he could sense its raw power sapping away at his. He began to feel increasingly unsteady, until again, he passed out, slipping away into an unconscious state. Despite this, a deep voice rang out in his mind with terrifying clarity.

"The Star-God has extracted a fragment of your soul. It will be protected indefinitely."


	4. Cthulhu

A/N - Sorry the updates are taking 700 years or so. Real life is getting in the way a lot and as a result this whole business is on the bacjburner a bit. Nonetheless, I'll strive to update when I can.

Cheers to all who are keeping up with this! Sorry this chapter's a bit short, but it won't be long before the fun and games kick off, methinks. ;) In the meantime, enjoy!

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><p>~~CHAPTER THREE~~<p>

"Harry! Harry! It's okay!"

Hermione had crouched down aside Harry who had sharply fallen to his knees, a horrifying image filling his mind. The pair had been taking down the tent when he saw it. A monstrous creature of marine origins, bringing with it a terrifying sense of dread. As Harry saw it, it stared, remaining ominously still.

"Harry!"

Slowly, Hermione's voice brought him back around, and he blinked, his body jolting. Shakily, he stood with her help and turned to her.

"Hermione… I don't knew what he's done but there was a monster. An enormous monster, looking at me… it was… _awful…_"

"Did you see something again?"

"Yes. He's… he's doing something with monsters, and I don't know what. _Damn!..._"

"What did the monster look like?"

Harry went on to explain what he saw, Hermione listening attentively, her thoughts focusing on one thing.

_Cthulhu…_

"Ah!" she blurted, interrupting Harry. "Do you remember there was talk of Cthulhu? I'd been thinking about it recently, trying to recall what I knew – Harry, the monster you described isn't Cthulhu, and thank goodness for that!... It could be a Deep One – I do hope it isn't – or a Shoggoth, or—"

"Hermione," Harry said, a puzzled expression meeting Hermione's eyes. "What? You'll have to explain all of this to me."

She sighed, recomposing herself. "Cthulhu. You told me there was something about Cthulhu."

"Well…yeah."

"Cthulhu is a terrifying beast, Harry. He's worshipped globally in dark cults…they believe that when the 'stars are right' Cthulhu will rise, and all of the lore associated with Cthulhu speak of great destruction." The information flooded back to her as if she had just read it; a trait that never ceased to amaze anyone who knew her.

"Well, that brightened my day," Harry muttered sarcastically.

"It's not all bad," she replied. "From what I can remember, there have been numerous predictions and never yet has he rose. Thank goodness for that….Anyway. The 'Deep Ones' are also great beasts, worshipped by these cults. They can vary in size, but normally they're around seven feet tall, and reproduce with – oh…"

"What?"

"Harry, Deep Ones mate with humans to increase their numbers." The words made Hermione shudder as she spoke them.

Harry remained silent. This hellish lineage of creatures began to sink in; these were all very much real despite being mind-bendingly difficult to _comprehend_.

" There are two main Deep Ones," Hermione continued, having composed herself. "They are a 'Father' and a 'Mother', not that can I remember their names or anything else about them. All I know is that they're powerful. _Very_ powerful. Let's hope the beast you saw wasn't one of them…"

They continued the pull the tent down, packing its contents into Hermione's mind-bending sack. It was moments like these that magic proved to be a wonderful thing; objects much bigger than the bag itself could easily be stored and recalled. Bringing down the enchantments, the pair continued on their way through the forest, heading for nowhere in particular. They remained silent as they picked their way through the trees, coming to the edge of the woods after a lengthy time of walking. Before them lay extensive farmland, the south England countryside chilled by the cold early December winds.

The pair stood there, both looking out onto the fields before them. To the Muggle world, such a view was nothing out of the ordinary. To two wizarding teenagers on the run, the fields before them could hold Snatchers, Death Eaters, Dementors… the list went on and on, of dark creatures patrolling the countryside in search of 'undesirables'.

"Harry?"

He turned to his left, following the source of the small voice. Hermione had slumped against a rock and Harry was looking at Hermione he had never seen before. Her face was sullen, her eyes bloodshot. She looked exhausted; a far cry from the motivated, shining girl she normally was.

"When will all this be over?"

He moved to her side, slumping down and joining her. The pair stared off into the distance, enjoying the brief calm in the chilled winds. Harry sighed heavily, taking a pause after he did so. He too felt exhausted, but Hermione was relying on him to stay strong. It was a mighty struggle, and the battle hadn't even properly began. But Hermione needed him. Ron needed him. His friends, teachers, the wider wizarding world – even the Muggle world – they all relied on Harry to stay strong and succeed.

"Soon Hermione… It'll be over soon, I promise."


	5. The Golden Trio

A/N - Finally, another update! University is pretty demanding right now, so I can only really update sporadically at best. To those of you following this; sorry about that! I will finish this tale; it might take some time but it will happen.

In the meantime, here's another character development chapter. No big monsters, no evil stuff, just Harry, Ron, Hermione, and a tent. Enjoy!

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><p>~~CHAPTER FOUR~~<p>

It was nearly midnight when the pair appeared with a noticeable _crack_. Snow had settled in the sleepy village of Godric's Hollow and the temperature was bitingly cold. Neither of them said anything upon apparating, simply walking side by side in absolute silence. There had been a brief discussion before deciding to visit the village; Harry had insisted the pair visit, Hermione's wishes to stay at the tent ignored. For Harry, he needed to come here. It had been seventeen years since he'd been here. He could remember nothing of the village. He could barely remember his own parents, the people that _raised_ him. He needed to make the pilgrimage to re-discover his own past.

The pair walked solemnly along the village high street, turning at its end. Before them stood a sight that neither were truly prepared for. Hermione let out a small gasp as the wrecked remains of Potter Cottage stood before them.

"Harry…"

He ignored her, stepping forward and leaning on the garden walls. Years ago, this was his home. He lived here as a baby, happy, with his parents. Now, on the eve of adulthood and the most important war in wizarding history, it stood lifeless, a shallow memorial to the events that occurred here in 1981. Lost for words, he bowed his head, closing his eyes and sighing.

He felt a hand on his back, rubbing him softly. "Oh, Harry," Hermione uttered quietly. She saw him nod weakly, refusing to move for some time. After a few minutes, he stood, turning to Hermione.

"I need to see them."

Silently, Hermione and Harry turned and began walking. She knew exactly what he meant by that. It didn't take them long to arrive at their destination; the Godric's Hollow cemetery. Most of the graves were small and unassuming, aside one positioned in the centre of the burial ground. It was noticeable but oddly humble at the same time. A simple inscription was all that could be seen on the headstone.

_Lily and James Potter_

Again, the silent ritual occurred. Hermione watched as Harry moved from her side, taking in the sight before him. After a short while Hermione moved to his side once more, drawing her wand. Gracefully, she summoned a bouquet of flowers, arranging them neatly on the grave. As she did so she noticed a small group of children walking past, singing carols.

"Oh! It must be Christmas!"

Harry maintained his gaze, staring emptily at the tombstone. "Yeah," he replied nonchalantly.

Hermione turned to him, looking into his eyes. "Happy Christmas, Harry," she said sadly, taking his hand.

He turned to her, her touch enough to draw him from his own thoughts. "Happy Christmas," he said, smiling weakly. "Thank you."

"For what…?"

"For…this." He gestured around him. "For coming with me. For _staying_ with me. If it wasn't for you, well…" he trailed off, his stare once again gravitating towards the tomb.

"It's okay," she replied softly. "That's what I'm here for." Hermione smiled as he turned back to her.

"Come on, let's get back to the tent. It's getting cold."

* * *

><p>Before beginning the Horcrux hunt, Hermione had read up on some charms she had deemed appropriate. Clearly, the invisibility charm was necessary; another which Ron and Harry had insisted on was the warmth charm, making the interior of the tent feel comfortably warm as if the trio would be sleeping in their own bedrooms. Certainly, the charm had done its job in keeping the tent's occupants warm and comfortable. This was one such morning. It was late December and Hermione's eyes were clamped shut, curled up under her sheets. She refused to get up; her bed was just <em>too<em> comfortable this morning. Normally one to rise early, she had stayed up for a long time last night chatting to Harry, then struggled to get to sleep because she was thinking about Ron too much. Sighing, she rolled over. It was no good. She'd have to get up. Harry would be wondering if she was okay, and if she didn't surface, then all she'd be thinking about was Ron, worrying where he'd have gone, if he was okay, if he was…_alive_…

Hermione stopped that train of thought as soon as it began to blossom, throwing her bedsheets from her. Ron was not dead. He was Ron. He'd be okay.

"Hermione?"

She snapped alert. Harry was outside of the tent; he sounded eager for her to show her face. Throwing some clothes on, she rushed from the tent.

And there he was.

"Hey!..." he said meekly, a lopsided smile on his face. He looked awful. His hair was damp; his clothes were even more beaten up than before…yet somehow, just looking at him softened her. Ron Weasley had returned.

With that, thoughts of why he'd left in the first place invaded her mind. That he'd actually had the cheek to _leave_, at a time when she and Harry needed him, and he needed them! It wasn't often that Hermione showed her true fiery side – unluckily for Ron, that was exactly what was about to happen. She strode towards him meaningfully, unable to take her evil glare off of him. He was entrancing, but he was _such an arse!_

* * *

><p>Harry and Hermione once again found themselves alone. They had lit a small fire outside of the tent and decided to warm themselves there. Ron was soundly asleep within the canvas walls, as the pair had been chatting for hours.<p>

There were often long moments of silence that allowed Harry to slip into the world of his mind. There was rarely time for him to stop thinking; tonight was one of those nights. Instead, he wasn't thinking of the Horcruxes, or Voldemort, or the _terrifying_ visions he'd been having of those…_creatures_. Instead, tonight Ron and Hermione were on his mind.

Having spent months together with Ron for company, Harry found himself attached to Hermione more and more with each day. It had been said many times before, yet for good reason; 'without her, he'd be nowhere'. Those same words echoed in his head. Without Hermione, Merlin knows where he – and Ron, for that matter – would have ended up.

"There's something so soothing about watching a fire crackle," Hermione said softly, gazing into the flames.

"Yeah…" Harry trailed off. "Something we rarely ever get to do. Relax."

Hermione smiled. "Let's enjoy these few days while we can. We've no more leads on any of the Horcruxes yet, and-"

"Brilliant and devoted though you are, would you mind if we didn't talk about the Horcruxes tonight? It's just…we've… we have plenty of time to worry about them. We could use some respite."

"You're right. I'm sorry," she replied quietly.

"No, it's okay. We're all under a lot of stress, let's be honest!"

"That we are…" Hermione's tone changed. "_He_ hasn't helped." She gestured with her head to the tent, despite Harry knowing exactly who she meant.

"He can be a handful…we know that better than anyone else, really. And it was awful seeing him storm out on us-"

"Awful? Harry, it was… heartbreaking!" She fell silent. "I didn't know if we'd see him again." Her voice lost its usual, Hermione-like confidence.

"Of course we would, and we did. It was the locket, it was playing havoc with him."

"But it was so…genuine…" Hermione let out a sigh. "Oh my goodness, why is that boy such an enigma?"

"Playing on your mind then, is he?" Harry joked. He was met with a cold stare, which didn't last for long. It turned into a sheepish grin. "I thought as much."

"It's just…I…he…"

"I understand, Hermione." He watched as she blushed. "I've picked up on all the little 'things' recently."

"It hurt so much watching him argue with you. Honestly. And then when he left, well…" She trailed off once more, unable to finish her sentence, gazing once again at the fire.

It was then that she felt an arm wrap around her. Looking up to her right, Harry sat right next to her, smiling. "The locket played on his deepest fear, you know."

"But…I don't understand…"

"Don't tell me the brightest witch of our age can't work out Ron's deepest fear!" he chuckled. "He hated seeing you so close to me. He was jealous. Hermione…he's worried you prefer me to him."

Stunned, she was unable to speak, attempting many times to reply – but she couldn't find the words. "…really?..." she croaked after some time.

He nodded slowly. "Yes." Harry smiled as she watched her face light up again. This was the Hermione he loved to see.

"I…I love you. I love both of you. But, Harry, you're…you're the brother I never had. I..I don't _prefer_ either of you. It's…different. Do you know what I mean by that? You and Ron-"

"Hermione," he began chuckling. "I know what you mean, you don't have to explain yourself. I understand."

"Thank you Harry. You always know how to cheer me up." She pulled him into a hug.

"It's okay," he replied. "Don't stay angry at him for long, please? You and him have some things to talk about eventually." He felt her face grow warm; she was blushing again.

From inside the tent, Ron had sat up in his bed, listening to every word the pair had said from outside. He followed the conversation intently, a great feeling of excitement and worry deep within. His eyes widened as he listened to Hermione speak so passionately of him, and when Harry explained to her about the locket, it all fell into place. A huge grin grew across his face as he lay back down.

_Hermione Granger likes me._

He sniggered happily as he closed his eyes.


	6. Interlude I

A/N - Quick update! Busy life is busy, sorry for the brief chapter. There's gonna be another brief interlude following this one then it'll be back to the chapters! Cheers for reading and all that.

No, I don't own any of the Harry Potter saga OR anything by HP Lovecraft / August Derleth and so forth. Enjoy!

* * *

><p>~~I~~<p>

'_Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn'._

'_That is not dead which can eternal lie.  
>And with strange aeons even death may die.<em>

_That is not dead which can eternal lie.  
>And with strange aeons even death may die.<em>

_That is not dead which can eternal lie.  
>And with strange aeons even death may die.'<em>

He remained motionless on the evil plateau. To stand now would be an insult to the Elder God and almost certainly secure his fate.

What Salazar Slytherin did not know was that his fate had already been mapped out by exactly the beast he knelt before in worship.

He held his crouched position, holding his eyes shut and breathing rhythmically, yet heavily. The temptation to stand and explore his surroundings was astounding; few had stood on the hallowed ground that he had been selected to kneel on. The powerful yet invisible force that had forcibly apparated him to R'lyeh and promptly keeled him over into a worshipping position was a strong enough message.

This was the moment that Slytherin had worked towards for many, many years.

"…"

"…"

"…_Sorcerer…Stand…"_

The terrifying, omniscient voice tore through his mind, barely leaving any room for thought. As it spoke, he found himself standing, once again thanks to the invisible force using his body as a puppet. Terrifying, yet intriguing. Horrifying but enlightening. Such was the odd clash of emotions that had riled up within Slytherin since his unexpected arrival.

Once again the voice spoke.

"_Believer…betrayer. The Sorcerer has betrayed."_

Adrenaline began to coarse through his figure. Clearly, he had fallen out of favour with the Gods. But…_how_? Slytherin was no betrayer. He had established the Black Brotherhood; he had answered the call of the beast. He was an unwavering loyalist. To betray his idol would be nothing short of a guaranteed death.

"_Intrinsic…human…foolishness…"_

"_INTRINSIC HUMAN FOOLISHNESS"_

The voice grew ever louder until it was nothing short of a high-pitched, grating scream, filling his mind. He could focus on nothing else, dropping to his knees, attempting in vain to mask the sound by covering his ears. He cried out in agony as the sound began to ebb at his sane mind. One of the four most powerful wizards in the world – branded a failure by an object of worship.

In that moment, creatures began to haul themselves from the ever-angered seas. Through the blinding roar in his mind, he made out the figures of Deep Ones surrounding him. They gazed at his slowly crippling form, unwavering in their watch. Quite simply, they were stalking him. He was able to deduce that they were waiting for him to be weak enough to literally tear to pieces alive.

It was then that the deafening scream stopped abruptly, followed by a short silence. Quickly rising to his feet, Slytherin felt his head spin as he fumbled for his wand. Failing to grasp it, it fell to the plateau floor whereby it was instantly destroyed. This was some sort of ancient, dark magic, incomprehensibly more powerful than any wizard could surely hope to be. He gasped as he watched his wand ember into nothing, his head rush finally catching up with him. Gracelessly, he collapsed, slowly hauling himself up with one arm, jumping at the sight before him – the fish-like humanoids had closed in for the kill, standing mere metres from him.

The voice boomed once more.

"_Discovery…of…rituals…"_

Finally, Salazar Slytherin came to realise what the Elder God had summoned him for. His documents compiled regarding the event that could only be described as the "alignment" had been discovered by the three other Hogwarts founders and denounced as an ultimate evil. For the Elder God, this discovery would set back the seamless rise and re-establishment of power. He had failed in his one most important task – to safeguard Cthulhu's rising.

For that, he would surely die.

Collapsing, he lay face-up, his mind effectively destroyed. The screaming and the realisation of his cataclysmic failure had shredded all that remained of his fractured mentality and the only thing he could comprehend was the six Deep Ones staring down at him. Struggling to speak and mentally exhausted, Slytherin babbled mindlessly as he watched the Deep Ones' every move – slowly, they leant in towards his form, each one grasping a different part of his body.

And suddenly, with no warning at all, the beasts tore his body apart.


	7. Interlude II

~~II~~

"There is no way we can publish this! Should the public hear of this, well-"

"The people have a _right_ to know, Rowena! The entire wizarding world should have this knowledge bestowed on them – hard though the truth is, as one community we will stand ever stronger in the face of danger-"

"As _one?_ Don't you see? This…revelation…is almost definitely going to spark a wave of panic amongst the community rather than unifying them!"

"Ladies, please!" Gryffindor called out, trailing off. The two women were stunned by his voice, turning to face him. He was stood with his arms leaning on the wooden table, an exhausted look on his face.

Wiping his brow, Gryffindor continued, aware that he now held his co-founders' attention.

"We cannot simply shy away from what we have discovered. This is, well…_grave_ news; we can but hope that our interjection into this awful secret was not too late. Now, whilst on most occasions I would be tempted to agree to the policy of fairness that Helga has so vividly championed in this debate – by letting everyone know – I must cede that Rowena is right."

"But Godric-"

He continued, unperturbed by the outcry from Hufflepuff. "If this was something that we were certain we could handle – normal circumstances, one might argue - then there would be absolutely no point in keeping this from the public. However, these are _not_ normal circumstances; we do not know what we're dealing with, how to stop it, and whether or not we are too late."

A deafening silence befell the room as none of the three founders were able to speak. They each remained motionless for some time, their own thoughts tripping over one another, attempting to come to terms with what they had discovered. The silence was eventually broken by Helga Hufflepuff, who cleared her throat anxiously as she reached forward and gingerly took one of the many scrolls from the pile that lay in the centre of the table.

"This is ridiculous," she said after some time with steeliness in her voice, breaking the tension that had slowly been building in the air. "How had we not discovered this before?"

"You're forgetting the cunning, wildly intelligent man who was behind their production," Gryffindor was quick to reply. "Salazar would take absolutely no chances in risking revealing this. It is evidence enough to sign your own death warrant, I expect."

"Almost certainly. Dealing in such ancient, _evil_ magic is a sure-fire way to make wizards lose their entire faith in you," Rowena added, "Why would he do such a thing? He was a respectable man!" Her rising angst caused her to hack once more; it was clear to everyone that Rowena was on an ever-constant downward spiral of health.

"Aside his loathing of non-Purebloods, you seem to have forgotten." Helga failed to recognise just how curt her reply had been to Ravenclaw. "Anyway, I imagine that he'd be using ancient magic as a weapon. Think about it, once you have the most ancient of all dark magic on your side, you're a mighty force, virtually unstoppable. There'd be nothing we could have done. Who knows, he may have conquered the world and killed all the non-Purebloods, simply on principle-"

"Sir?"

A small voice sounded from the doorway, where stood a young man that all could recognise as one of the many staff members assisting in running the school. Quite clearly he was addressing Gryffindor, who stared intently at his young cohort.

"We-we've been working on tracking his apparition route, Sir. The wards succeeded in picking him up as he passed though them – and from this we should be able to extract further information shortly - but unfortunately, so far this is as far as we've got."

Slowly nodding, Gryffindor spoke. "Well done, tell your team to remain ready. We shall be down in a few minutes." He watched as the heavy door closed, once again leaving the three founders alone in the room. Without hesitation, Gryffindor turned to the two women before him. "This is our only chance," he began. "We have to follow Slytherin and stop this."

"Forgive me Godric, but – I – are you losing your sanity? Did you not just hear what the boy had said? They haven't tracked him down! We could apparate and 'follow' his path but Merlin knows where we'd end up!..."

"Helga, I appreciate your concern. But this is something we _must_ do. If we are to have any hope of stopping this – at least knowing exactly what it is that we're trying to stop – then it is our duty, as protectors of the wizarding world, to destroy the evil that threatens to destroy us."

There was a deathly pause.

"Regardless of your decisions, I will be going."

Gryffindor's final words hung in the air, seemingly echoing in the chamber. None of the founders made an effort to move or speak for some time, the tension once again boiling over.

And it was then that they spoke.

"It's the right thing to do," Hufflepuff stated, solemnly yet determinedly.

"I'll go," Ravenclaw added.

Smiling meekly, Gryffindor watched his co-founders stand. "Give me five minutes," Hufflepuff said to him. "I must say some goodbyes before we go." Understanding, he let her leave the room. As Ravenclaw went to follow suit, Gryffindor closed the door and sealed it, much to her surprise.

"Rowena…"

"Godric, what is all this about? Why are we locked in here?"

"Please, sit down. I want to talk to you."

Nervously, she sat, her eyes never leaving his direction.

"It's about Helena…"

She let out a clearly frustrated sigh. "We've been through this before. Let's forget about that – _episode_ – for now, we have a duty-"

"This is different," he said, his tone dropping. "How much of Slytherin's texts have you read?"

In no hurry to reply, Rowena slowly spoke. "Little, but…enough to paint a detailed picture."

He nodded. "Helena stole your diadem and ran off to Albania, claiming jealousy of your intellect did she not?"

"Of course she did, you and I both know that," she spat at him, wheezing slightly. He had once again hit a sensitive spot yet seemed to care little as he blundered through. He was speaking of her own daughter, who had abandoned her for the sake of intelligence.

She coughed violently once more, the negativity pooling inside of her and bringing her degrading state of health to the forefront.

"I…Rowena, I know you're ill and I know this is not what you wish to be speaking about right now. But… here," he said, handing her a scroll from Slytherin's recently discovered pile. "You must read this one."

She snatched it from his hands and saw him sink into a chair from the periphery of her vision. Her focus then turned back to the parchment, labelled 'the Black Brotherhood'. Below this label there was an extensive list of names with a few details regarding each person.

"The Black Brotherhood – the dark cult that Slytherin had founded himself," she barely heard his voice say. She was too lost in the names, scanning the list. Ravenclaw had a good idea of what it was that Godric was alluding to but denied it at first, then prayed it wasn't true the further down the list she read.

But there it was – the stark prof she wished she would never have read.

'_Helena Ravenclaw. Committed member of the Brotherhood. An invaluable personal assistant. Killed mercilessly by the Baron in Albania. A tragic loss – although her work had long since been completed.'_

"I've seen enough," she whispered, thrusting the scroll in Gryffindor's direction. "Why…why would you show me this now?"

"You needed to see it," he said coolly. "Perhaps it may come as comfort to you that Slytherin had cursed her into running away with your diadem."

Her throat sounding raspy, she raised her voice. "Why would you keep all of this information from me until now, Godric?"

"Please, you must look after your health," he said to her, almost forgetting the topic of conversation that had come before. "You are weak, anger will do you no good."

She sighed, coughing again. "I repeat my question."

"I had found out merely hours before. After we had made this…discovery," he said gesturing to the pile of scrolls, "many people approached me with information. Somebody had informed me that they had witnessed Salazar cursing your daughter, instructing her to retrieve your diadem and pass it to him so that he might gain that extra wit he would need to complete his dark mission. You will remember she had fled to Albania?"

"Yes."

"By this time, Salazar had already gained the knowledge he would need for his mission. He exiled Helena to Albania – she did not _choose_ to leave – with a fake diadem, falsely telling her that it was the real artefact. Hence, when the Baron found her, she had 'your diadem' and refused to return because Salazar had cursed her into staying away from you. Rowena, I'm sorry – it was a hoax the entire time."

The information hit her as if a dragon had smashed into her with full force. Despite this, it took longer still for the meaning to sink in – by the time it had, she had masked her pain; her sullen features remained motionless, her eyes dry – she was too frail to produce tears.

"Let's go," she demanded, standing briskly. "We must stop this ancient force once and for all." She made for the door, seeing Gryffindor removed the locking charm. The pair slipped through the doorway, heading for the dungeon where Slytherin had apparated from. The found Helga waiting there and a small group of cloaked wizards who looked expectantly at them as they made their entrance.

"Sir," one young wizard said. "We've been able to plot Slytherin's destination thank to his magical signature that lingered behind."

"Good," Gryffindor said to the young wizard. "Where are heading?"

"Er, somewhere _odd_, sir. We've never seen a town named as such before." The young wizard handed Gryffindor a scroll, with a word scrawled across it; _R'lyeh_ _._

"Right," he replied, unsure of how to even pronounce the word he was looking at. After a brief moment of contemplation, he turned to Helga and Rowena. "It has been a truw honour serving with you two."

"You make it sound as if we're going to our deaths," Helga noted sharply.

"For all we know, we may very well be," he retorted. "I wanted to let you know that if we do not return alive; thank you for everything that we have been through in the establishment of this fine bastion of witchcraft and wizardry – you two are some of the smartest and most powerful witches I have had the pleasure of coming across."

Silently nodding, the two women watched as he extended his arms for them to grab. They did so, as he reached down to double-check his sword was in its hilt.

"Here we go."

With that, the trio disappeared with a loud crack, their destination unknown and their fate sealed.


End file.
